The Unknown
by Besina
Summary: John um... and Sherlock, well... It's just all-over angst and sadness, with a horrible ending. I blame the muse, as I certainly didn't set out to write this! Warnings for non-con. A dark fic with a miserable ending. Unintentionally dark!John, victim!Sherlock, friendships ending, asexual!Sherlock, misunderstandings, heart-wrenching angst.


"You ready, Sherlock?"

Sherlock couldn't really reply as his mouth had been stuffed with a cloth which was tied in place. He blinked up at John, who straddled him on the bed, both of them naked.

Sherlock's not entirely sure what happened, other than he'd come in the front door. John must have knocked him out right after.

He'd just woken up seconds ago to find himself naked, gagged, on his back and tethered hand and foot to his own bed, John sitting astride him and smiling sweetly.

On the plus side, the rope was soft, and though it was tight enough to ensure he wasn't getting out of it, at least it wasn't cutting into his wrists. His legs were bound together at the ankle and then to the base of the bed frame. He could wriggle, but that was about it.

John held up a hand, as if to stop Sherlock from speaking, even though _that_ wasn't going to happen, and interrupted the non-present dialogue, "I know, _I know, _you're not interested in sex - at least you don't think you are. But I'm guessing you haven't even tried it. Once you have, I'm betting you'll change your mind." John smelled a little bit intoxicated. Sherlock wondered exactly how much he'd had to drink before he'd come up with this plan.

Sherlock thought for a second - he was tied on his back, and that his legs being tied down and together meant at least John wasn't thinking of penetrating him - that was a small relief, but he still wanted nothing to do with this... experiment. _Yes, it helped if he thought of it as an experiment._

He made a small, muffled sound and wriggled objectionably, trying to dislodge John from his perch.

John merely closed his eyes and felt his cock shift across Sherlock's squirming belly.

"God, if you don't watch out, Sherlock, you'll have me coming before we even start." John placed his hands flat across Sherlock's pectorals and lifted himself up a little. "I've already prepped myself," he said, " - and you." Sherlock picked up his head a bit to peer down through the gap between his and John's bodies, to see the base of his cock and bollocks were snugly encircled by a cock ring. "Now we just need to get you hard. That shouldn't be too difficult, should it? I mean, you still masturbate, don't you? There's bound to be something you enjoy."

Sherlock closed his eyes and groaned. _Why did no one understand? _Yes, he _did_ still masturbate on occasion, when he felt he needed to, but that didn't mean _sex_ was something he wanted to engage in with another person.

John lay down across him, pressing their chests together and wriggling slightly. "Oh, that's _nice._ Sherlock, you've got such a wonderful body, you really need to use it." Sherlock kept his eyes closed as John pressed in closer. He could feel John's breath on his neck.

The doctor groaned once before he began to kiss, then suck along it. He could feel John getting excited even by this.

Sherlock inhaled a long stuttering breath through his nose as goosebumps raised along his arms. He couldn't help the way his body was responding to the sensation.

"'s good, isn't it?" breathed John, as he went back to his assault on Sherlock's neck, gradually releasing the suction and kissing his way down to his collarbone, his hands now running over and stroking Sherlock's chest, briefly pausing to tweak his nipples.

Raising back up the detective's body, he nipped and sucked at the shell of Sherlock's ear, garnering a moan from the detective.

"See? It's not so bad." John's hand snaked down between them to see if Sherlock had gotten hard yet. He hadn't; but he wasn't exactly soft either. John smiled, this time kissing down the front of Sherlock's throat and continuing down his sternum. He paused to lick and suck at Sherlock's nipples and the man beneath him squirmed.

A few moments later, hot breath continued on its journey southward as lips kept up their kissing, teeth occasionally nipping, and hands caressing bits of him on the way down.

He felt John pull away from him for a moment and a warm hand wrap around him. His breath stuttered again and he didn't dare open his eyes. He didn't want to see John enjoying what he was doing - it just wasn't _John_ to do this to him, even if he thought he'd like it. He wondered what had gotten into the doctor? John's hand was busy stroking his length, and damn it if it wasn't making him respond.

He felt a little moisture around his eyes and opened them to look pleadingly at John. This would ruin their friendship, wouldn't it? If John wanted...expected..._this._ He couldn't do it. John misread the look and soothed a hand across Sherlock's cheek, murmuring, "Oh god, you're frustrated aren't you? Hey, shhhh. It's okay. I'm sorry. We'll get on with this. I'll have you feeling so much better in a moment..."

John rose up to straddle his hips again, and positioning Sherlock's stiff member against himself, very slowly slid down onto it. Sherlock inhaled again, closing his eyes tight. John was on him. He felt hands press down against his chest as John lifted himself up again then pushed his hips back down, moving Sherlock slowly, gently back into him. John's breath hitched, but he continued to take things slowly. Sherlock could feel him shiver atop of him.

"Oh god, Sherlock..." he breathed, as Sherlock entered him again.

He wanted to wail and hit and shout, "No, _John_! This is _not_ what I want! Even if it feels good, it's _not who I am!_ I _don't like_ this!" All he could do was growl and make noises of protest which John interpreted as lust or a desire to speed things up, as Sherlock grunted.

"Okay, okay, I won't drag it out..." John lifted his hips and pummelled himself onto the cock below him, feeling it press in deeply as Sherlock kept his eyes closed and his fists clenched. He pistoned himself up and down, faster and faster. He could see Sherlock breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, _oh_ and _there!_ Sherlock's whole body tensed below him and he felt the cock inside him twitch as his friend rode out his first orgasm with another human being. Just the thought that he'd been able to bring that to Sherlock sent him over the edge as he pumped himself to completion, spilling over his hand and across the detective's chest.

He braced himself against Sherlock while he sat, panting and trying to regain himself, his head spinning slightly, then reached over for a towel he'd laid out and wiped Sherlock and himself clean. He rose up, allowing Sherlock to slip free of him, and towelled him off down there as well. John didn't do much about what was left in him, because he rather liked the idea of Sherlock's come remaining inside - it was like a prize.

He undid Sherlock's restraints and removed the cock ring. John's foot caught and kicked the blankets upward, where his hand caught them and brought them up to cover them both, giving him a chaste peck on the cheek, then winding his arms around Sherlock's torso to cuddle him.

In a manner of minutes, John was fast asleep, a blissful look of happiness spread across his face.

Sherlock had simply lain there stunned. _What _had just happened? And _why?_

He looked down at John and couldn't hate him - the man had certainly gotten it all wrong, but he'd _thought_ he'd done something Sherlock enjoyed. His stomach twisted. He wasn't happy. He hadn't enjoyed it, even if his body... well, _had_. He was a bit angry, but couldn't tell exactly what he as angry about... having been incapacitated and used? Well, probably. _Not _reacting how John had hoped? Probably that as well. John completely misreading him? Yes.

His heart thudded in his chest and anxiety rose as the repercussions flitted into his mind. _ He was going to lose John._

He hadn't wanted this.

He would never want this. _What had he done to indicate that he had? He must have done something. John just wouldn't...wouldn't... not without cause._

Yet, if he told John what had really happened, the man would be mortified - he'd tearfully apologise again and again, pack and leave and Sherlock would never hear from him again. If John were truly horrified - well, he'd just have to hide his gun before he told him - but that was no guarantee. John was a doctor after all, and hurting someone like _this_, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

But Sherlock couldn't pretend to like it either, no matter what John wished. His body had gone along with it, but his brain was _definitely_ not on board. He didn't want a repeat. And though he didn't expect John would waylay him again, he couldn't be sure.

Even if he never told John the truth of what he'd done, surely the fact that Sherlock, even after this initiation, _didn't_ want him, would become clear, and John would leave anyway, sad and humiliated.

_John was leaving, there was no way around it. _

He placed an arm over his eyes and tears gently trickled from the sides, down his cheeks and onto the pillow beneath. He mourned for a friendship that was already gone.


End file.
